


the fountain of infinite mirror

by horrorterroronesie



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Self-Harm, Time Loop, a little bit, also octokittens!, these tags are a trip, unreality, yes its a coffee shop au.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorterroronesie/pseuds/horrorterroronesie
Summary: Nastya loved that little coffee shop. The Aurora. It was the perfect place to work on her thesis, free of distractions. With a coffee in her hand and a muffin in her stomach, it was easy to fall into the soothing monotony of writing. Just the…Don’͟t̶ ̕do th͟i̛s̢ ͜again͢, Na̵stya͜.͡ ̸R͟ęm̷em͠be͟r̨.͝Wake up.
Relationships: The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93





	the fountain of infinite mirror

1.

The cafe was situated smack dab in between two university campuses, serving cheap coffees and really good muffins and sporting a wifi connection good enough that it quickly became populated and staffed only by students. 

It didn’t try to be anything other than such a cafe, no, it leaned into it, with the vaguely steampunk theming and the… honestly off-putting life-size wooden sculpture of a garishly dressed soldier at the entrance. 

And above it all hung an artificially aged, hipster-looking sign proclaiming the name of the shop:

The Aurora.

2.

Nastya loved the little coffee shop. It was the perfect place to work on her thesis, free of distractions, which was to say anyone she knew other than Ivy, her roommate, but Ivy worked on Mondays- and even if she didn’t she wouldn’t bother her.

Ivy waved to her from behind the coffee machine, elbowing Raphaella to point her out. Raphaella waved as well.

3.

With a coffee in her hand and a muffin in her stomach, it was easy to fall into the soothing monotony of writing. Just the…

Oh.

She suddenly felt very dizzy.

_Don’t do this again, Nastya. Remember._

Th̵e̢ fi̶rs͝t̨ time͢ ҉i͝t̕ w͢as r̵e̕al͘:

_Running, blood snaking down her arm, body weak and every sensation unfamiliar. And then the gun in her hand and the bullet in her stomach and the man on the floor. And then the woman, looming over her with a cold gleam in her eyes._

_Wake up, Nastya._

The͠ ͢l̶as̢t ̶ti͏me ͘i͟t͝ w̨as͘ real͜:

Her hand found the butter knife by her plate.

T̡HE ̧LA͢S̸T ̷̨T̷͡I̡M̴̶E̛ ̛͡IT W̧A̶̴̛Ş̢͞ ̶R̕E̴̸A͜L͞͏͝:

She needed to- to- to-

to remove her interface ports.

She didn’t know what that meant, she didn’t know what the memories meant, she just grabbed the knife and-

x.

Stabbed down.

But that wasn't right. Red blood pooled, a base analog communication and transportation system where it should have been brilliant mercury. Somebody screamed. Not her. She was staring at the table through her wrist, watching as the hole failed to close. 

What had she-

x+1.

Raphaella ran up to her, first aid kit in her hands. 

“What did- this isn’t- this doesn’t happen! I don’t know how to do this! I wasn’t trained for this!” She babbled, eye twitching as she tried to staunch the bleeding. “This isn’t what people _do!_ ” It wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to act like this, she was supposed to be almost unflappable in her thirst for knowledge, she wasn’t a barista- none of this was RIGHT, BUT SHE COULDN’T _THINK PROPERLY_ -

  
  
  


PARAMETERS EXCEEDED

\--->

REBOOTING

  
  
  


y.

Nastya tended to spend Mondays full-tilt working on her thesis. She made her way through the city to the Aurora cafe.

Wait.

Hadn’t it been… Monday yesterday?

The realization hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. Everything was _wrong._

She turned back to the street she’d just passed and saw the sharp edges on every facet of the birds roosting above. They were motionless, just swaying from side to side as the telephone lines did the same.

The streets all faded into fog at the ends. There was nothing around her, no other way to go, but the most direct route towards the coffee shop.

She looked at her arm.

Nothing. Not a port, not a scar, not a drop of blood.

y+a.

She thought about returning home for the day, but the more she thought about it the faster the realization came that she didn’t actually know how to go back. Where did she live? What did her flat look like?

Oh, she was already at the cafe.

  
  


y+a+1.

She looked at the wooden sculpture at the entrance. It was familiar-unfamiliar, painted moustache flaking at the edges.

“Move.” She ordered experimentally. 

It didn’t seem to, at first. Until she heard the soft scraping of wood on concrete and saw its leg slowly inching forward. Not even inching- more like millimetre-ing. It would be a while before it made any progress.

She went into the cafe.

y+a+2≤y+b-3.

It was Monday. It was the _same Monday._

The people working behind the counter were different, though. One was Marius, who she dimly recognized as- _baron doctor annoying -_ Ivy’s friend. The other’s nametag was obscured by the pin proclaiming him manager.

There was a man playing the guitar on a small stage by the back wall. His long, curly hair partly veiled his face.

He was playing _Wonderwall._

Nastya suddenly got the impulse to stab her hand again.

But no, that was dumb. And her head hurt even more when she tried to think about what had-hadn’t happened.

Instead, she looked at everyone else in the cafe. They sat at their own tables, looking for all the world like normal people. But-

That was wrong. Like an optical illusion, she _focused_ and saw. They were all unmoving, all staring transfixed at the guitarist. Just like the birds, they swayed side-to-side as one. None were breathing. 

There was only one other real customer.

  
  


y+b-2

He was quietly writing something in an armchair, focus evident in his expression. She knew him. She knew the guitarist. Tim. She just needed to THINK-

y+b-( _i_ )

She knew them.

_The Mechanisms. All of them, they were her crew_. There were others, their absence tearing at the edges of her mind like nails on a chalkboard. She remembered, she knew what was real, and she would tear this false world apart-

There was a sound like breaking wood.

y+b-1

A tidal wave of… _something_ burst through the employees-only door. Individuals detached themselves from the group quickly, and Nastya could see each for what it was. Now, only if she _understood_ what the hell it was. The bottom half of an octopus, the middle half of something in-between and somewhat furry, and the head of a cat. 

  
  


y+b

“They’re coming from the boss’s office!” Marius shouted, tearing an octokitten off his arm with a grunt. Ivy was… not actually being attacked by any of them, and instead had grabbed herself one and now sat petting it. Raphaella, however, was beating them back with a ladle.

“Then close the door!” She screamed.

He really did make a valiant effort towards it. As he struggled, Nastya looked around.

The street outside the cafe was almost entirely invisible. Only a void of some indeterminable colour, too dark and too bright to see. 

A scream brought her attention back indoors. Marius… had disappeared?

"Nastya, can you go get the manager? He's out back." Ivy requested calmly, still petting her octokitten.

y+b+1.

She stumbled out into the back alley.

"I think the- those things ate Marius-" She stopped. The shift manager was dragging what remained of Marius' body towards the dumpsters. He turned to her with a feral grin.

"Only half of him! Didn't make him any easier to lift though, the annoying bloody-" He stopped, panic clouding his features. “No, what- I- I need to call the ambulance? What am I-" The grin fell away and he turned back, only to be faced with a rapidly advancing octokitten. 

Nastya didn't even see him move, she only heard the shot as the fuzzy mistake of science splattered over the alley walls. He looked at the gun like it had a mind of his own.

Despite the mingling horror and confusion in his face, speckled with gore, a laugh tore itself out of his throat. He doubled over.

His nametag said 'Jonathan.' But- no- she remembered. This was-

"Jonny?"

“Ahaha- I- do I- hahahaha- do I know you?!” 

"I- no. No. I guess not." She stepped back towards the cafe. "You're not real yet."

He was shaking with the force of laughter and sobbing both. 

y+b+2.

Most of the normal patrons of the shop were gone when she entered. Like they’d never been there. There was only the man in the corner, still writing like nothing was going on, and Tim, using his guitar as a baseball bat to smash the encroaching octokittens into the walls. She walked up to the first.

“Who are you? Are you real?” 

He turned to her with a puzzled smile.

“Hm? I guess so? My name’s Brian, but if you’re asking me in a philosophical sense, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I don’t really understand any of that.” He laughed a little. In front of him, Tim kicked an octokitten into the air, then swung his guitar into it, knocking it straight through the cafe window. 

“Well,” Brian said with a final awkward grin, “If you didn’t need anything else…?”  
She sighed, then almost chuckled a little. If you could call it a chuckle, and not a sob.

“I can’t do this again. I don’t… I don’t know how to get out.”

She didn’t wait for his answer. She remembered him, now. And Tim as well. All this was wrong and she was the only one that could _see_ it.

And she still didn’t know how to get out.

The clock on the wall, somehow still working through the carnage, struck eight p.m. The cafe should have closed by n-

  
  


SESSION TIMED OUT

\--->

REBOOTING

  
  


z.

It was Monday. Nastya didn’t have any classes, so she usually spent the day at-

No, that was enough.

She didn’t walk to the cafe. She was just there as soon as she left her flat.

The Toy Soldier at the entrance had almost entirely raised one leg. Its mouth was halfway open.

“Move faster,” She ordered. 

It creaked into motion, stumbling before it caught itself.

It straightened up with a grin.

“That Feels Much Better! Thank You Very Much!”

“No problem. Do you know how to get out of here?”

“Why, You Can Just Walk Out!” 

It did so. With a measured marching step, it made its way down the road. Nastya watched quietly as its outline became blockier, until it was barely visible in the fog.

And then it didn’t disappear. It just marched in place, never getting any smaller or further away.

That was a bust, then.

z+1

Inside, there were only two people working. Marius seemed to be as alive as he had been two todays ago, with Ashes beside him sporting a manager’s badge. 

Oh, _that_ was who she was missing! Ashes! Everyone seemed to be accounted for.

Now, to get to work.

She shoved past them, ignoring protests and shouts as she levered up the gate to the counter and stormed into the employees-only area. Yestertoday, the octokittens had come from the back, and she’d heard somebody shout something about “the boss’s office.” 

She didn’t think that Carmilla was behind this, exactly- it wasn’t her style, and after so long spent in her company she _knew_ what the woman’s style was- but if she was looking for an off-switch it was as good a place to start as any.

z+2

The office door was open, a faint glow emanating from within. Perfect. But first…

  
She opened a door marked ‘SUPPLIES’ and grabbed a heavy wrench.

Okay, _now_ it was perfect.

The office was entirely empty, except for a plain desk and a computer. The source of the glow. Lines of code flew by on its monitor, entirely too fast to read. 

  
  


She glanced back at the cafe. The muffled sounds of Wonderwall filtered through, along with the clinking of cups and plates. If she closed her eyes and tried not to think about the reality of the situation, she could almost lull herself back into that false sense of belonging.

Would it have been nice to simply go along with it, spending her days writing an engineering thesis and befriending the motley crew of staff and regulars in the cafe?

Could she have forgotten that none of it was real? Could she have been happy here?

…

  
  


Yeah, no, that sounded really fucking boring.

She brought the wrench down on the computer.

  
  


SESSION FAILURE

\---->  
REBOOTING

REBOOT FAILED

\--->

EJECTING

Nastya came to with an unhinged-looking short man in a labcoat trying to loom over the Aurora’s engines. Trying. It was kinda pathetic, really.

She quickly took stock. Okay, she was propped up against the wall of the engine room, the other Mechanisms lined up beside her. Still not conscious. The man was _doing something to the engines-_

  
  


"You're awake? No matter! You can see your crewmates are still within my ingenious simulation! And as they sleep, _I can control the ship!_ Muahahah-"

The first punch sent him flying. Nastya struggled up, grabbing a gun from Jonny's immobile body and advancing.

"Get." She could see, now, the wires leading into Aurora's core. 

"Away." What else had he done to her?! What second-rate modifications did this bastard attempt?!

"From.” The scientist scrambled backwards. 

“My. 

GIRLFRIEND!"

The gunshot went straight through his skull. He slumped down, motionless at last. Nastya didn't waste any time looking back at her crewmates, instead leaping into action. She tore out the cables he’d _defiled_ the engines with, repurposing the screws to hold the ruptured casings together. Not a _single_ _filament_ would remain when she was done. 

It was probably another hour later when she finally spared a glance for the other Mechanisms, righteous rage waning. With the power source disconnected, she could see them begin to twitch and wake up.

She made her way over and disconnected the interfaces. They would heal normally, it looked like.

They would never need to have the same scars as she did.

She chuckled ruefully, closing the final line into the Aurora’s core. Her ship, her love, whirred to life- _properly,_ not the half-life she had had as whoever that guy was tried to take over- around her.

“Good morning, Aurora.” She hummed, letting her forehead rest against the whirring engine.

  
  


“I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! the title is from murders by miracle musical!


End file.
